in terms of reality
by MYZ-chan
Summary: -CyrilTokusa-  Why, if I weren't such a lowly specimen, I might say that you were trying to keep me caged like an animal.  Spoilers up to chapter 202.
1. Chapter 1

"You are _insane_."

Cyril sighs, flicking a hand at the woman in the corner. Immediately her jaw snaps shut, and her eyes, a deep brown (lovely, really), widen in indignation. "Please," he murmurs diplomatically, "what a spoiled brat. We give you a proper body—based off of your _original_ features, even, a nice room, your companions a proper place to sleep, and you call us sick? Really now." He tightens his hold, watching beads of sweat roll down her neck as her supply of air diminishes. "Such a _rude_ specimen."

Finally, he releases her jaw. She gasps, sucking in air. Cyril had to admit, her complexion was rather lovely when flushed red.

"_Windows_," she snarls.

He blinks. "Excuse me?"

"This room has _no_ _windows_," she snips, regaining her composure. "Why, if I weren't such a _lowly_ _specimen_, I might say that you were trying to keep me _caged like an animal_."

Unbeknownst to himself, his lips twitch slightly.

How amusing.

"I don't see the humor in that, Noah," she says coldly, "as well as you keeping me alive. What purpose does it serve you? Giving me a new body, a rather inappropriate one at that—there's no point. This—" gesturing to her torso, "is nothing but a shell."

"Come now, I think it's rather fetching for a shell."

"You should," she scoffs, "as you told me yourself that_ you_ helped decide it." Absently, she reaches up and runs a hand through her hair, now a darker blonde. "Will you tell me your purpose, or shall I have to ask a _useful_ person for the answer?"

He chuckles, crossing his legs in the chair. She continues to stand as stiffly as ever by the nightstand, arms folded behind her back (they really were nice reattached back onto her body). "Impertinence, I'm afraid, is not really something that makes an attractive lady. We'll have to work on that in order for you to fit the role."

"Role?"

"Of course." Cyril smiles, fingers folding neatly under his chin. "My beautiful wife, Tricia, is away in one of the best hospitals in America in order to find help for her ailing body. Is it not natural that I, as the prime minister and her husband—" Here, he could see her jerk in surprise (or horror, which would work either way) "—take care of her younger sister as one of her leaving requests?"

"Her—" she splutters for a few moments before laughing. "You can't possibly think that will work."

"Why not? I must say that in this form, you do bear a striking resemblance to Tricia in this body. You_ could_ be related." He smiles calmly even as her face contorts with disgust. "Unless, of course, you'd rather the better task as taking her place entirely."

"_Better_ task?" Quirking her eyebrow (much better now thinned and longer), she pulls her arms around her as if to shield herself, distaste barely masked. "Tell me, how is that better?"

Without responding, he simply bends a finger, and she is yanked in front of him, dangerously close. The sudden pull has caused her breath to hitch, eyes wide with alarm and hair to fall into disarray.

"As I have said," he says slowly, luxuriously as he reaches up, running a finger down across the nape of her neck and across her throat, his nails leaving red streaks on her white skin, "impertinence is not suitable for a lady's…" Nails, black as pitch, digging into her throat. "…_demeanor_, dear."

Slowly, he releases his grip, watching the crescent moons go from white to a dark red. "You will have to learn to behave," he says lowly, watching her suck in air, "if you want both you and your companions to survive. Remember that, my darling _sister-in-law_."

A single push on the arms of the chair and he stands over her by a good foot, beaming. "Now then, Tokusa, you're going to have to get properly dressed. Road's expecting you downstairs; she's awfully restless, you know, with the Earl too busy for any fun these days. She's been positively _dying_ for a new playmate." His smile grows wider as the impact of his words sink in, her eyes filling with horror and disgust. "There is a dress proper for the occasion in the closet behind you—I expect that you will get changed and meet her down in no more than ten minutes."

"Ten min—I've never worn a dress before. How do you expect me to—"

"You will be able to figure it out." The smile, fleetingly warm immediately turns to ice. "Do not let down my expectations, Tokusa dear."

For a moment, she is frozen, dark blonde hair framing her pale face and dangling around her shoulders, brown irises stark against the whites of her eyes. And for a moment, she truly is a woman, placed in a situation beyond her control and with no way to stop the current from flowing. A rather beautiful woman, he muses, closing the door behind him, considering that _she_ was originally male.

Cyril almost feels sorry for her.

* * *

Agh, yes. Another beginning to yet _another _multi-chapter fiction that I really should not be working on. D: What is wrong with me? Besides the fact that I'm writing something like this, that is.

Anyways. This is an idea that I've actually had (for a while, obviously), and hopefully you all enjoy. While I don't really like to beg for reviews, I am this time because I do want to improve, especially with topics as touchy as gender and sexuality (which is...sort of what this is about, in a way, and it will definitely become a big part as this is set in the late eighteen hundreds), and how a Noah as twisted as Cyril somehow manages to grow affection for someone outside the family (and Tricia). Tokusa's psyche I would also love criticism on because quite honestly, I have no idea how he will adapt and react to this situation - especially with that new body of his. :)

Wow, that was a wordy paragraph. Basic rundown: reviews would be highly appreciated, whether it's a long run-on on what I did right and what I could do better (I love those, by the way, as long as they're not on the verge of flames), to simply telling me whether you liked it or not.

Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

"…a way to keep them on their toes," the Earl hums, putting his fingers together lightly. "Pour another cup of tea for me, will you, dear?"

Lulubell obliges, reaching over and lifting the pot over the smooth porcelain. "Pardon me for asking, my lord," she says, "but how does changing that creature into a female do anything for our side?"

"Simple," he chuckles, glancing up at Cyril from across the table. Cyril meets his gaze calmly, giving him a warm smile in return. "While Cyril dear is supervising over the child, we are not only holding its freedom over its head but its companions' wellbeing. The Order as well should be in a state of disarray, now that their new toys are missing." He chuckles again, taking the cup from Lulubell and dropping in a sugar cube. "Truly. If they want to have new toys, they should take better care of them."

"What of the others?" Lulubell persists, setting the pot down on the doily set out on the table. "We have only found use for one."

"I'm sure we will be able to come up with something," the Earl says calmly, chucking in a few more sugar cubes and stirring the liquid. "One can always find one use or another for toys."

"Indeed," Cyril muses, glancing out the window. In the garden, he can see Road pulling Tokusa, clad in a plain, dusty blue dress through the maze of flowers. Very so often the woman stumbles, quick to recover. Obviously, she was going to take only a short while to get used to her new body. "So far, their toys seem to be amusing enough."

The Earl laughs, hearty and dark, and even Lulubell has to shudder at that. "We'll see how long that lasts."

* * *

It takes her exactly nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds to contemplate escape, decide against it in favor of convenience, force the dress on and go downstairs to meet her doom.

Apparently, her doom consists of rose gardens.

"You're so slow, new Dolly," the Noah girl laughs as she runs through the tangle of roses. The grip on Tokusa's hand tightens even further, and the woman has to wince (how strong was this girl, anyways? She felt more like a professional wrestler than a petite child). "You're going to have to be faster than that."

"My—apologies," Tokusa grits out, feeling the dress folding around and around her ankles. At this rate, she is certain she would either fall straight into the rose bushes or onto the ground—not covered by cushioning grass. "I'm afraid this body is still new to me—" Another tug and she stumbles again before quickly steadying herself. Thank goodness the Noah had said nothing about shoes (loopholes? Of course she was going to take advantage of them). "—I will probably need some time to be as fast as you." Sucking up to a Noah? A new low, but in times like these, what else could one do?

The girl giggles again, not all that nicely. "Behaving yourself, maybe. Putting on shoes can't hurt, right?"

Mind-reader? Tokusa swallows, feeling like stopping in the grass right then and there. When was this going to stop?

"Not until he gets what he wants," the little girl smiles, twirling to face the woman.

"Don't do that." Not for the first time since she had arrived, Tokusa breathes in through gritted teeth as she weasels her hand out of the girl's bone-crushing grip. "Please," she forces out, pressing her lips together thinly.

The girl pouts. "You're not as much fun as Papa said then, hmm?"

"Excuse me—"

"Excused, Auntie," the girl mocks, putting a finger to her lips.

Despite herself, Tokusa bristles from the taunt. "I am not your aunt," she whispers lowly. "I am not any relative of yours, nor do I belong to any of you. I am a Third Exorcist, a Crow. And most of all, I am not a woman. I am male. Do you understand me, Noah?"

Silence. Only the wind brushes the tops of the flowers, whipping Tokusa's hair around her face. _Despite having the brains to engineer him a new body_, she thinks irritably, refusing to move even as hair weaves across her eyes, _they couldn't even remember to give him a hair-tie._

And then, just as the girl's eyes narrow into tiny slits and Tokusa begins to think that maybe that wasn't such a bright idea (so much for self-restraint—apparently that didn't last in the face of irritating Noah), and the girl begins to reach for her face—

She laughs.

The Noah laughs.

Tokusa blinks.

"I changed my mind," the girl hums, patting the side of Tokusa's cheek. "You're pretty interesting after all, huh?"

"I'd suppose so," Tokusa says, then immediately curses internally (restraint, restraint!). "Though I'm not sure if your version of interesting is a good thing." Restraint!

"Hmm." Her smile grows wider, and the girl's eyes glow with an emotion that Tokusa, while not able to read, is not sure that she likes. "I'm fairly sure it is."

When her hand slides off of Tokusa's face, her palms leave the feeling of ice on the woman's skin. "I'm getting kind of hungry, so we'll stop for the day," she giggles, humming a bit as she begins to weave her way out of the garden. "I'll see you later, Tokusa!"

"W—"

Too late. The Noah is out of sight, the only sign she had been here being the faint rustling of leaves.

She had left, and Tokusa has no honest idea of how to get out of this garden.

* * *

I have one more chapter before I have to churn my gears for more. So far, these are mostly 'Get-to-know-the-psycho-family' chapters, but the plot shall be churning under the surface as...well as I can portray that (which probably will not be that well).

Also, in the face of the interchanging 'he's' and 'she's' for Tokusa, 'she' is mostly referring to the body and his current state; 'he' is mostly referring to internal and past state of body. Just in case it wasn't obvious.

But! Hope you enjoyed.


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